Beware Jealous Betelgeusians
by Demus
Summary: Ford is being remarkably touchy about very insignificant things. Chapter 10 a random scene, and love that's lost. Contains slash, not very graphic, and probably wild inaccuracy. I'm now taking requests for BJB!
1. Back off, Zaphod

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy' in any way, shape or form.

* * *

Something decidedly odd was going on. Granted they were in a ship with an Improbability Drive and granted it was normal for weird things to happen (an oxymoron, I know) but this was decidedly, definitely odd. Arthur was smiling.

The moody, whiny, complaining, useless waste of space, feeble excuse for a monkey was smiling. At Zaphod. And he was still smiling at Zaphod as he got up and walked (somewhat lightly) out of the room. The self-named hoopiest frood in the galaxy shook his heads at the idiocy of the Earthman and returned his adoring gaze to the large handmirror he had been staring into- an activity that was always distracting, fun, wholesome and worthwhile… for Zaphod.

So engrossed was he in his own countenance that he did not notice the slow and strangely ominous approach of the third occupant of the room. That was, until his mirror was violently wrenched out of his hands and hurled against the opposite wall. As it shattered, Zaphod leapt up, alarmed, and looked down into the tempestuously angry Earth-sea-blue eyes of his semi-cousin.

"Ford? You zarking moron, what, by Zarquon did you do that for!" he yelled, drawing himself up to his full height, both heads snapped towards the offender. The other Betegeusian seemed unimpressed, continuing to glare balefully at him.

Zaphod flung his arms out in exasperation. "Well?" he demanded when Ford didn't answer.

The shorter man reached out and grabbed him by his lapels, yanking him down so they were face to face. "If I were you, mate," Ford growled, every word dripping with enough venom to wipe out an entire planet, "I'd be extremely careful about who I smiled at."

"What?"

Ford released him, dropping him contemptuously to the floor in an untidy heap. "Just watch yourself, Beeblebrox," he warned before storming off, waves of anger fizzing out of his every move. Zaphod watched him go, completely bewildered. What had that been about?

* * *

The 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' says the following about Betelgeusians: 

_Due to their carnivorous ancestry, beings from any planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse are extremely protective of anything they view as 'theirs'. Though they are normally perfectly accepting of hitchhikers and quite happy to give them a lift, it must be noted that hitchhikers who find themselves on a Betelgeusian spaceship **uninvited** are advised to immediately hand over all alcohol to pacify their hosts. _

_They are also advised to keep away from anyone a Betelgeusian is romantically involved with. Any sign of romantic favour between their partner and another being is seen as a threat. Betelgeusians are renowned for eliminating threats by any means necessary._

_N.B. Signs of romantic favour include; touching; hugging; kissing; waving at; smiling at; winking at; passing an object to; asking the time of; sitting next to when there are no other seats; or generally being within a five-mile radius of the aforementioned Betelgeusian's partner. Be on your guard. _

_

* * *

_

P.S. Just in case its not clear, Zaphod would normally understand Ford's actions, but he is unaware of the ...closeness... between him and Arthur. Also, I have no idea where this event occurs in the timeling of the series. Feel free to place it where you will.


	2. Not Yours, Trill

Thank you to my reviewers spirals, amberblood and Les Lapins Mauvais. Very much appreciate the comments, chaps.

Disclaimer: I do not own THGTTG

* * *

Arthur Dent was, not to put too fine a point on it, deliriously happy. Finally, after all the weird things that had decided to happen to him, something good had come along. He was practically skipping down the corridors, sheer euphoria almost lifting him off his feet. If there had been any clouds on the ship, his head would be in them. As there weren't any, we shall have to settle for a more mundane metaphor. 

Arthur floated along like a speck of pollen, waiting to fertilise a hopeful plant. (Obviously the sexual connotations of this comparison have nothing whatsoever to do with Arthur's mood. As the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ clearly states: _'All metaphors, similes, comparisons and other descriptions should be regarded with complete suspicion as they are, more often than not, formed as part of a hopeless romanticism, wildly inaccurate or a cruel trick played on lesser beings by advertising companies. See Chapter 56-_ The Scum of the Universe and the Avoidance Thereof')

In fact, the Earthman was so caught up in his unusual and unexpected happiness that he completely failed to take in the approach of the other human present on the _Heart of Gold_ and, somewhat inevitably, they crashed into each other.

Trillian looked up in some considerable annoyance at Arthur who, oblivious to the fact he'd just knocked her over, was humming something maddeningly cheery to himself as he meandered about the place. "Arthur!" she snapped, irritably. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Give me a hand up will you?"

"Of course!" Arthur trilled, trotting back to heave her onto her feet. Still holding her hand, he twirled her round and then, without warning, executed an almost perfect ballroom dip.

Now horizontal, Trillian stared into the manically grinning face only inches from hers. "Arthur," she began, her voice deliberately level. "I know I've said this before, but what the hell are you doing?"

The tall Englishman pulled her back up, released her with another twirl and gave a flourishing bow. "I have taught the food-machine thingy to make something that isn't entirely different from tea!" he replied, still sounding aggravatingly cheerful.

"Erm…"

"At last, something normal! In fact, I think I'll go and get a cuppa right now. Farewell, sweet Trillian!" With a clumsy pirouette of delight, Arthur was gone.

The woman watched him go, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. There was definitely something wrong with her travelling companion. She shrugged and turned to leave, resolving to discuss it with the others later on. Maybe Arthur had taken a knock to the head or something…

Setting off down the passageway, it wasn't long before Trillian found herself again confronted by an unmoveable object. This time, as she looked up from an uncomfortable position on the floor, she found she was glaring at the oddly intimidating form of Ford.

"What is it with you people today?" Trillian fumed, exasperatedly. She hoisted herself upright and glared at the alien, now eye-to-eye with him. "What did you do that for?" she reiterated when no grovelling apology was forthcoming.

Ford snorted. "Oh please! Like you don't know, strutting around the place like the woman you are, all breasts and teeth and hair. Don't think I don't know what you're up to!"

Trillian was completely astonished. Was there some strange drug being piped into the air to cause this strange behaviour?

"Oh yes, you may well look innocently confused," he continued, angrily. "I saw you just now, leading him on with your 'Give me a hand up, Arthur' and 'What the hell are you doing Arthur'! Don't think I don't know what's going on here. I lived on Earth for fifteen years, I'll have you know! I'm wise to all your tricks, you…you…woman!"

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, Ford," Trillian said, matter-of-factly, the faintest trace of danger diffusing into her tone. "But if you insult me again, I'll ram your head through the wall."

The Betelgeusian sneered, leaning in close. "Bring it on, human. See how far it gets you."

They stood in silence, tension crackling through the air between them. Each form was poised with the nervous tautness of Bugblatter beasts facing off- a very rare and not very pretty sight. When neither of them had moved for several seconds, Ford straightened up and pointed a warning finger at Trillian. "I'm watching you, Earthgirl- you and your double-headed cohort. You've already had your chance with him and you went with Zaphod, now back off. He's mine."

With this firm statement, Ford rudely brushed past her, heading for the kitchen area. Trillian remained where she was, muscles relaxing. Was that jealousy in Ford's eyes? He was jealous that she'd _talked_ to Arthur? What was the deal with that? It wasn't like she was stealing him or anything, just talking to him. She rubbed a hand over her eyes tiredly. Maybe Zaphod could…maybe Marvin…maybe she could check the _Guide_ for clues. It wouldn't do for Ford to start attacking everyone who talked to Arthur. They'd never get anything done.

* * *

Ford/Arthur interaction next chapter. I promise. 


	3. Better Than Tea

Thank you: Rowana S, Les Lapins Mauvais, amberblood, Gilded Muse, HurriCanine, Sambev89 and Solo Maxwell-Yamato

Disclaimer: I do not own THHGTTG. If I did, Ford and Arthur would probably be…well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?

* * *

Ford strode down the corridors of the _Heart of Gold_, his movements akin to those of an angry cat- quick and sharp with a hint of 'I WILL Kill You' fizzing off every gesture. He knew exactly where he was going- his prey couldn't elude him for long. Especially when he could hear it singing something intensely irritating in the kitchen. As the doors sighed orgasmically open to admit him, he almost ran into Marvin coming the other way. The Betelgeusian gnarled incomprehensibly at the robot and pushed past him, his face darker than a thunderstorm approaching a washing line. 

Marvin sighed and continued down the corridor, even more depressed than he had been when he'd been in the kitchen. He hated organic life-forms. They were so randomly emotional.

Upon entering the kitchen area, Ford stopped dead. Arthur was stood in front of the Nutri-Matic, a glass held to his lips. His eyes were closed and there was an expression of pure anticipation on his face. He tilted the glass slightly and Ford found himself transfixed by the sight as Arthur swallowed and sighed satedly. As he lowered the glass from his mouth, he slowly licked his lips and leaned back against the counter, a smile of complete satisfaction on his face.

Ford's lips pulled back from his teeth in an unconscious snarl and he stalked across the room, halting in front of Arthur with only a few inches between them. After a few moments, the Earthman seemed to notice the darkening of the atmosphere and he opened his eyes, jumping in shock when he discovered his best friend standing almost nose-to-nose with him. He grinned sheepishly and gestured to the glass. "Hi Ford. I was just…erm…"

The Betelgeusian moved even closer, squashing Arthur into the counter. Arthur gulped nervously, all his happy feelings suddenly replaced with uncertainty and slight fear. Bright blue eyes burned fiercely into his own, ice flames of emotion scorching through them. "I've been watching you," Ford hissed malevolently, his hands reaching out to grip Arthur's upper arms. "I've seen what you've been doing."

"Wh-what h-have I been do-doing Ford?" Arthur stammered, now completely unnerved by the promise of violence in his friend's demeanour.

"Don't pretend you don't know," Ford shot back savagely, his fingers tightening and digging in to the soft material of Arthur's dressing gown. "Nothing on this ship's safe from you is it, you brazen hussy? Smiling at Zaphod, talking to Trillian, drinking from that glass!"

"But-"

"And I don't even want to think about what you were doing with Marvin." Ford shuddered a little, then leaned in so Arthur had no choice but to look him directly in the eye, their foreheads almost touching. "You've been acting like the little Earthslut you are, haven't you, Arthur?" he purred maliciously, his body pressing further and into the Earthman's.

Arthur began to struggle as a panic-flea response started to overwhelm him. "Ford, please, why are you doing this?" he whimpered, afraid.

Suddenly, triggered by the pure fear in his voice, Ford's grip on his arm slackened off and the Betelgeusian shook his head violently, like a dog shaking off water. He looked up into Arthur's terrified face and his eyes widened in horror. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed. "Oh Zarquon- Arthur, I'm so sorry, I thought I could contain it…I didn't realise…its never been this strong before…"

"What hasn't? Ford, what just happened?" Arthur asked, his heartbeat slowly dropping back to normal as Ford backed away from him.

"Its erm…something that affects male Betelgeusians…" Ford muttered, staring down at his hands as if he'd never seen them before in his life.

"Come again?" his friend replied, his scattered thoughts collecting themselves.

"Its to do with hormones- look, Arthur, thing is, you see…when we spend a lot of time with someone we, sort of…form attachments and erm," Ford steeled himself to continue. "We kind of, get a bit…possessive…"

Arthur looked nonplussed for a moment, and then a look of slow realisation began to cross his face like a sunrise on the planet Fnorgle (where there are seven suns, each of which competes with all the others for orbit space. This results in very long and drawn out sunrises as they vie for which one is going to be the main sun of the day). "You mean, you were being jealous?"

Ford nodded miserably. "I didn't think it would happen- I mean, usually in this situation I'll already have sassed the person in question so it doesn't get this bad. But I've known you now for years and its not like we could have quick discreet sex in a phone booth somewhere and then forget about it and never see each other again…" Ford trailed off when he saw Arthur's expression.

There was an awkward silence. Followed by another, equally long and equally awkward silence. The Nutri-Matic hummed uncomfortably in the background.

"You know," Arthur said slowly, carefully enunciating every word. "That doesn't actually sound like a bad idea."

Ford's head snapped up and he gaped idiotically at the human, so shocked that he actually blinked twice in as many seconds.

"I've never had someone who was jealous of my even speaking to someone," Arthur continued, ignoring his friend's reaction. "Well, apart from my mother."

"You mean…"

"Yep."

Ford grinned his widest, insanest grin. Arthur smiled back and offered his neck to the sexually repressed alien. "Take me. I'm yours."

The Betelgeusian leapt.

* * *

In the console room, Zaphod and Trillian jumped to their feet at the loud crashing noise and set off at a sprint to the kitchen. Well, actually, Trillian sprinted and Zaphod got dragged along behind her, complaining about how uncool running was. They stared in disbelief at what they saw. Arthur was lying flat on the floor, his arms pinned over his head by Ford, who was straddling him and had his lips firmly attached to Arthur's neck. Arthur had his eyes clenched tightly closed and was moaning loudly, struggling a little against Ford's hands. They could hear Ford rumbling deep inside his throat as he…attended to the Earthman. 

Trillian was about to pull Ford off and demand why he was sucking Arthur's blood like that when Zaphod put a hand on her arm and pulled her back through the door. "Something tells me," he said, his heads wearing identical grins. "That my semi-cousin has finally got round to releasing a few hormones."

The woman cocked an eyebrow at him.

Zaphod's grins widened. "Put it like this baby," he said, slinging one of his right arms around her and pulling her back to the console room. "When a Betelgeusian loves his pet monkey very much and is insanely jealous about anyone going anywhere near him, they tend to make hot alien interspecies boylove in the middle of a kitchen floor…"


	4. Life After Jealousy

I shall inflict another chapter on you, because jealous!Ford is yummy and the temptation was irresistible.

Disclaimer: I do not own HHGTTG. There would be a lot more hot alien interspecies boylove in it if I did. DNA rules.

* * *

Arthur Phillip Dent is a quiet, sensible, generally well-meaning individual who likes a simple life and a nice of cup of tea of an evening. He is a 'Nice Bloke'. Unfortunately for him, he is known for liking one Ford Prefect. Even more unfortunately, this Ford Prefect happens to return certain amorous feelings. The mixing of these obviously incompatible personalities has resulted in adventures, near-death experiences, stress, nervous tension and total pandemonium. In other words, everything a person like Arthur Phillip Dent should avoid for his or her own sanity and well being. But perhaps more importantly, this mutual liking has also resulted in love, affection and devotion and some of the most fantastic sex ever experienced by any beings ever. 

Things were going well. They had been officially 'together' now for about three weeks. Or so Arthur believed- it was hard to tell when one travelled through time and space with as much regard for the continuum as a Vogon has for imaginative literature. They had even formed a cohesive working unit whereby they would travel to a random planet, Ford would write up a Guide entry, Arthur would edit out any drunken mistakes and they would move on to the next planet.

Hence, their current situation. They were sampling the nightlife of an obscure but surprisingly popular planet. That is to say, Arthur was standing bewildered in the middle of a very loud and confusingly lit nightclub and Ford was getting wasted. They had even found Zaphod in there, doing a bit of rather obscene 'mingling'. The human sighed as he looked around and decided to go and get a drink. It was as he was moving towards the bar with this intention that the following happened.

Arthur leapt about three feet in the air with a squeak. He spun around to see the alien that had pinched his buttocks grin and wave a purple appendage at him, winking coquettishly. Arthur blushed, unsure how to take this advance. He considered telling the alien he was spoken for, unsure how it would take this news.

The alien's grin widened as he dithered and it gestured for him to come closer, leaning forwards so its shirt slipped to reveal a heavily muscled blue torso, complete with 11-pac. When Arthur still didn't move, it frowned momentarily, seemingly in concentration. Then it smiled the most beautiful smile the human had ever seen and widened its eyes adorably, adding a little giggle in for good measure.

Entranced, Arthur started to walk towards it- he'd never seen anything so gorgeous in his life. All thoughts of mentioning his current relationship disappeared and he was struck by an overwhelming urge to find a dark corner to spend ten, maybe even twenty minutes with this amazingly attractive person. Images of a bright and happy future flashed before his eyes, of purple muscular children with five limbs and devil-may-care smiles. He could hear the strains of violin music in his ears, see stars before his eyes and he couldn't wait to reach the exquisite being offering itself to him.

He was therefore quite perturbed when a rather old and tatty towel descended over his head, effectively blocking his eyes and nose. He protested, struggling against arms that were pinioning his hands to his sides. He heard a strange growl in his left ear and a hand wrapped around his upper arm, squeezing briefly before shoving him to the side. He yelped in surprise as he began to fall, then he felt himself being caught by another being. The towel was whipped off his eyes.

The human looked around wildly, completely disorientated. He soon came to three conclusions: 1. He was being held up by Zaphod, 2. The attractive purple and blue person was now engaging in a very heated conversation with another alien, 3. The other alien was Ford.

The possessive Betelgeusian was standing eyeball to eyeball with the other creature, fizzing with furious energy. His hands were thrown out to the side and Arthur could clearly hear a whole litany of insults, threats and general unfriendliness from the short, curly-haired figure. Unsurprisingly, the tall purple creature seemed unperturbed and was giving as good as it got.

Arthur twisted in Zaphod's grip to raise a questioning eyebrow at the two-headed man. The left head was totally engrossed in what was going on, an excited grin on its rugged features. The right head caught his gaze and sighed.

"Look, its perfectly simple Monkeyman," it said, wearily. "Ford isn't the only one in this Universe who knows the pheromone trick. The Giranian bachelor you see in front of you made a very worthwhile approach to seduce you using the aforementioned trick. My semi-cousin, as you already know, is the jealous type and immediately sought to block the pheromones from reaching you. And now your two admirers are having a little discussion about the whole incident. As far as I can make out, it's running along the lines of 'I Saw Him First' 'No You Didn't' 'Yes I Did' 'Well I'm The One Who Has Actually Slept With Him You Enormous Blue Bastard'"

The Englishman gaped and blushed simultaneously. He'd never heard such a composed and coherent explanation from the ex-President. At least, never directed at him. And he wasn't entirely sure he wanted his sex life discussed in public by complete strangers and, well, anyone that went by the name Beeblebrox.

Seeing his reaction, Zaphod snorted. "Personally, I don't see the attraction. You haven't got breasts for one thing. And you complain all the time. And…"

"Yes, thank you, point made," Arthur snapped, releasing himself from Zaphod's grip and brushing his dressing gown off huffily. He turned his attention back to the confrontation. "Erm…Zaphod…This isn't going to come to blows is it? I mean, Ford's not all that big, is he? And that thing looks like it could pull the head off a Bugblatter beast without breaking into a sweat."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Ford's usually quite cool about these things," Zaphod replied, airily. "Now, where's my drink?" With that, typically unhelpful, he wandered off.

Turning back to the 'discussion', Arthur noticed that the blue/purple alien was now beginning to role up its sleeves and clench its appendages into more fist like shapes. Ford was hissing aggressively, his hands curling into claws and coming up in front of him defensively. Many of the surrounding dancers, noticing the dispute, were forming a tightly packed ring around the about-to-be combatants. There was a disturbing amount of jostling and bet-placing going on.

Arthur gulped nervously, unsure what he should do. He really didn't want any violence to break out on his behalf, and he really really didn't want Ford to get hurt because his genes made him a bit too possessive sometimes. The human chewed his bottom lip as he deliberated, aware that the opponents had backed up and started to circle one another. Part of him wanted not to interfere and to watch Ford fight for him. He was quick to grab that part and thrust it into a very dark room encased in chains.

Making a split second decision, Arthur shoved a couple of aliens out of the way and dived into the centre of the ring. He glanced from the purple/blue alien to Ford, then back again. There was a disgruntled murmur amongst the spectators as the opponents stopped circling and focused their attention on Arthur, who wondered what he would do now he'd reached this point in his life.

But, as they say, honesty is the best policy. Arthur looked up at the purple alien and smiled apologetically. "Sorry," he said. "But you're just not my type." With that, he grabbed Ford and yanked him into a very heated and very passionate kiss. Ford flailed for a moment, then wrapped his arms around Arthur and responded enthusiastically.

When they both came up for air, Ford grinned manically at his breathless lover. "Thanks," he said, cheerily. "Shall we run?"

And, with a mass of respectively angry, jealous and excitement-deprived aliens scorching after them, Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent took flight.

* * *

Shit, I forgot the thank yous! Well here goes, thanks to: Oneiriad, Gilded Muse, Sambev89, Les Lapins Mauvais, AngelUriel, Rowana S, Rose Flame, elfgirl, amberblodd, HurriCanine, spirals and Jimmee. Sorry to forget! Also thanks to previous reviewrs of Ch4! 


	5. Playbeast

Disclaimer: I do not own HHGTTG

Thanks to: HurriCanine, Rowana S, gnatbuzz21, amberblood, Sambev89, Les Lapins Mauvais and AnonGirl88. And of course, to everyone else who reads/has read the story.

Dedication: For Rowana S because she requested it, in the vain hope it will distract her from the stress of exams. You're not alone, mate.

* * *

Somewhere in the least visited part of the Universe, four people once said, "All you need is love." They also said "Hey Jude", "Clang! Clang! Maxwell's silver hammer made sure that she was dead" and "We all live in a yellow submarine", but slight madness is excusable for musical genius. 

They were right too. About the love thing. The submarine thing is only true for about 25 per cent of the Universe.

* * *

_That wholly remarkable book, the 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' as well as being a compendium of survival tips for beleaguered, poverty-stricken travellers, also contains within its plastic covers some very interesting and almost certainly irrelevant information about things that are present in the Universe and things that aren't. For example, in the section headed 'Why One Should Never Molest A Snooklegaaden' there is a whole page devoted to a complex explanation of just how painful it is to have an enraged Snooklemother surgically remove your genitalia and force-feed it to you. Such passages have led to speculation about the truthfulness of the Guide, the vindictiveness of its editors, and the sanity of its researchers._

_One such passage goes into unnecessarily great depth about the inhabitants of a small bluey-greeny planet that no longer exists. Its says:_

_"Human beings are carbon-based bipeds descended from apes. They are generally mild-mannered, amiable, sarcastic and irritatingly dense at times. This confusion in their basic genetic make-up means they spend a lot of the time pointing out the obvious and making fatuous remarks. They are skilled alcoholics and hence skilled makers of alcohol (see Appendix 5aii). They devote much of their time and attention to the collecting and swopping of bits of paper and metal with each other and are uncommonly good at killing one another. They find sex enjoyable but do not discuss it in public places. More's the pity._

_Danger Rating -5  
Thought : Speech ratio 1:50  
Capacity for 'evil' 55 per cent  
Capacity for 'good' 55 per cent  
Capacity for idiocy 65 per cent  
__Basic Mathematical Skill Difficult to calculate  
Telepathic skills Negligible  
Quality of music Variable  
Most Likely To Say 'What a nice/awful day!'"_

_Needless to say, this section of the 'Guide', originally submitted by Ford Prefect, has undergone various revisions since the demise of the Earth and his subsequent striking up of a much closer friendship with one of the two surviving humans in the Universe. The entry has now been whittled down to diagrams of various interesting but painful-looking sexual positions, stimulating language that can be used around humans to interest them in certain activities and suggestions of items to have in and around the bedroom. It finishes with the words "Mostly Harmless, but beware of their 'sick puppy' looks."_

* * *

It must be love, Ford thought as he and Arthur strolled through a particularly beautiful park. Arthur hadn't commented on the weather, the pink candyfloss foliage or the lack of tea on Romanticon 2 (Birthplace of 'Catsa Supernova' the greatest lover of all time). Added to that, they were strolling arm in arm, had been for a while and neither of them were desperate for the ambling to stop and the sex to begin. Actually, Ford wouldn't have minded beginning some sex but the quiet walk was quite nice. Arthur's head rested on his shoulder- a comfortable weight- and the Earthman seemed completely content. Ford grinned. When nothing in the vicinity flinched, he grinned wider- romance wasn't really his thing, but every relationship needed a little splash of the fuzzy stuff.

* * *

Arthur sighed happily. It was a rare occasion when he and Ford were truly peaceful together. He savoured the sensation. Everything was perfect- the soft organic noises of life going on around them, the whistles of birds, the scuffle of paws on purple grass, the trickle of a nearby wine stream (surprisingly common on the planet- alcohol is, after all, conducive to getting into someone's pants). He could hear the laughter of happy couples rediscovering love at first kiss as they lay in the soft friendly light from a kindly sun. It was perfect. He turned his head slightly to look at his lover, rolling the delightful word around his brain. Lover. Yes, that was the term to use. Boyfriend was a little too gay, significant other a little too long and fiancé wasn't exactly accurate. 

The Betelgeusian's grin was at a stage that Arthur affectionately called 'Duck And Cover', for the simple reason that if it was directed at anyone they would flinch, back away and hide behind something. It always annoyed Ford when that happened- Arthur had eventually coaxed him into the belief that he, Arthur, liked the grin, even if everyone else was stupid enough not too. Ginger curls were bouncing in the playful breeze, flirting with each individual gust. An expression of pure childish glee dominated Ford's face as he took in the landscape, his wide blue eyes darting from object to object.

The human just knew that secretly the skinny alien was really desperate to laugh at the ridiculous natural décor of the planet, but he was holding out for Arthur's sake. Arthur hugged Ford's arm a little closer, smiling as he heard a rumbling purr resonate through his lover's chest. Of all the interesting things about Ford, it was this particular oddity that he enjoyed the most. It was like cuddling a very large, energetic, biped cat. With a towel fettish.

* * *

Ford glanced at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. What was it with him and purring? No wonder he had a pet cat. The Betelgeusian was about to ask his by now extremely relaxed friend just why he found Ford's chest reverberations so amusing when something else happened that completely spoiled the mood instead. 

"Hey! Hey you two!" shouted a nasal voice from behind them. Arthur lifted his head off Ford's shoulder and they turned, breaking apart as they did so. A small orange blobby creature was, for lack of a better or more accurate word, running towards them, looking more than a little flustered.

"Yeah, yeah, you two! Wait a minute!"

"What does he think we're doing?" Arthur muttered, a little annoyed at the interruption. Ford shushed him, his grin softening to merely rabid.

The thing caught up with them, panting heavily. It looked up at Ford, completely ignoring Arthur. "Is your name Ford Prefect?"

"Yes, can I help you?" There was an edge to Ford's voice that suggested he couldn't and he'd like the alien to sod off now, as he was busy. It didn't get this message.

"Oh great! Hoopy!" the alien started rummaging around in the rucksack it was carrying. Arthur shot a look at Ford, a look that quite clearly said 'Who Is This Person, What Do They Want And When Can We Snuggle Up Again?" Ford rolled his eyes at him.

"Could you sign this for me?" the thing asked, having found what it was looking for. It handed over a small magazine that looked suspiciously sticky. Ford wrapped a towel round his hand before taking it.

His jaw dropped. "_Playbeast_? Why do you want me to sign this?"

The alien shuffled nervously. "Cos you're, you know, in it."

There was a moment of tense silence. Ford looked thoughtfully at the magazine, unwrapped his towel from it and then placed the large piece of cloth over his head. And not a moment too soon.

"WHAT!"

Ford removed the towel and turned to Arthur, who looked completely scandalised. He waved the towel in soothing patterns in the air, uttering soft calming noises in an attempt to placate the furious human. It didn't seem to be working- Arthur had gone a hitherto never seen shade of crimson and he seemed to be breathing with difficulty.

The orange creature, which had flinched away from Arthur at his exclamation, peered out from behind his rucksack. "Have I said something wrong?"

"SOMETHING WRONG!" Arthur screeched, throwing his hands in the air.

Ford winced at his high-pitched tone. "Calm down Arthur dear, you're making a scene."

"I'M MAKING A SCENE! **I'M** MAKING A SCENE!"

"Yes, now calm down, please. You're scaring the Snooklegaaden."

"SCAR-" Arthur stopped mid-scream and shut his eyes tight, bringing his face down to bury his hands in them. "Why me?" he moaned, uncaring as to the rapidly growing crowd of spectators who were congregating around them. "Why couldn't I find something normal to sleep with?"

"There there," Ford said briskly, patting him on the arm. He turned back to the magazine and opened it, flicking interestedly through the pages. "You know, I can't remember any occasions when I-oh." He stopped and stared at the double-page spread.

The small orange Snooklegaaden, glancing nervously at the still-ranting Arthur, hurried forwards and proffered a pen. "Yes, that's the one. Could you write 'To Buwengi'?"

The Betelgeusian didn't reply. He was still staring at the picture of himself, semi-naked, posing rather wantonly on a chaise longue. "I-erm…I only look about 43 there…"

"What? Where?" Arthur, distracted from his rant, grabbed the magazine out of Ford's suddenly weak grasp and looked at the page. His mouth dropped. "You only look about 18!"

"Yes well, human to Betelgeusian, the whole age thing is a bit diff-"

"I don't give a rat's ass how old you are! You're posing! In a dirty mag! Semi-naked!"

The Snooklegaaden sighed exasperatedly. "Could we hurry this up? I have a lunch to get to."

Ford ignored it and continued trying to placate his irate lover. "Look, Arthur, I was young and broke. And probably very drunk."

"Naked, Ford, naked!"

"Is it really the time for that, Arthur? We are in public after all. Although…"

"No, in the picture!"

"Well, how else does one pose?"

Arthur growled and stomped towards him, waving the magazine threateningly. "Put it this way, how would you like it if I ripped off all of my clothes and started posing for photographers? Think about that!"

Ford did. After a moment, he leered luridly at Arthur.

"Stop that!" Arthur snapped. "What I'm saying is, how would you like it if thousands of people across the galaxy had a picture of me like this," he waved the picture in Ford's face again, "pinned up on their walls? How would it make you feel if you knew there were thousands of eyes on me, thousands of minds picturing themselves with me, their heads thrown back as they moan and writhe and sweat in the darkness?"

"Oh."

"Indeed, oh!" Arthur stalked closer to Ford, so close he could almost the smell the anger rolling off the human. "You're mine. Mine. Any wanton poses are for me to look at and only me. Not one other living soul should look at you with lust. Because lust for you is my sin and love for you is my redemption."

"Arthur…"

"So you," Arthur rounded on the Snooklegaaden, which backed away fearfully. "Bugger off!"

It buggered off. A cheer went up throughout the crowd. Arthur ignored it and walked back to a shocked Ford. "Shall we?" he said, offering his arm.

"Yes," Ford replied, somewhat weakly. He rested his head on Arthur's shoulder as they walked. After a while he grinned, thoroughly pleased with the afternoon's findings, and started purring. "Hey, Arthur?"

"Yes?" the human seemed to be relaxing again, giving in to the sense of tranquillity that dominated the atmosphere of the planet (specially pumped there from Romanticon 1).

"Why do you still have that magazine?"

* * *

_The continuous updating of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is a very important process in the ever-changing Universe. Saying that a planet is a vibrant and exciting place to visit when nuclear war has just decimated the population causes unnecessary confusion and drops in sales. That is why, somewhere in the Universe, someone is re-writing a Guide submission. When he is finished, the end of the entry on humans will read thus:_

_"Mostly Harmless, but there are three very important things you need to know when dealing with humans-_

_Beware their sick puppy looks._

_Make them jealous as often as possible- your sex drive will love you forever._

_Do not attempt to sass the human Arthur Dent if you like your limbs where they are (see Chapter 13 Section A- 'Why One Should Never Molest A Snooklegaaden')"_

_Somewhere in the Universe, a Guide researcher is not putting the finishing touches to this entry. Somewhere in this Universe, a Guide researcher has just been distracted by a six-foot ape descendent and will likely remain distracted for some time._


	6. Hunted

Disclaimer- I do not own HHGTTG.

I apologise for this. I have no idea where it came from. I wasn't going to write any more of this, but **Captain Oz **wanted 'more thingies' and used puppy eyes. It doesn't really have jealousy in it either. sigh

If anyone else wants a Ford/Arthur fantasy indulged, do tell me. But try to be a bit more specific, if you please. Otherwise I have to recycle- as I have probably done here. Ah well.

Thank you to: Rowana S (glad I could improve your day!), LadyBush, Les Lapins Mauvais, Eileen, Captain Oz, spi and HurriCanine.

_

* * *

In a disused and dust-covered room at the editing headquarters of the 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' on Ursa Minor, buried underneath a pile of other discarded entries lies a scrap of paper. It is from one of the earliest submissions to the Guide. It concerns the recently discovered planet Betelgeuse Seven and has some of the first-ever-made observations of the inhabitants, including their genetic history (uncertain), their social customs (unpleasant) and their most popular national foods (undercooked). One section highlighted as important goes as follows:_

'_There is nothing,' it says, 'that a resident of Betelgeuse Seven enjoys more than a chase. Their carnivorous evolutionary ancestry probably has something to do with this. The act of targeting, stalking and running down prey is one of the most stimulating a Betelgeusian can experience. This is why so many Betelgeusians have already signed up to be _Guide_ reporters.' _

_The article continues in this vein before stopping abruptly mid-sentence. The amount of staining now obscuring most of the entry has led to editor to believe that this particular reporter had just been pounced on by a hunting Betelgeusian. Listening to the Sub-Etha Dictaphone recording that was also submitted confirms this. Interestingly enough, copies of this recording now fetch an extremely high price at adult phone-line auctions._

* * *

A barren wasteland. No vegetation as far as the eye can see. Stark dry plains, pale and lifeless, stretched out before the hunter as he prowled through the familiar territory. He walked a winding, confusing path, led by instinct more than anything. The atmosphere around him was completely still, the air tasted stale and recycled and he could hear only a dull, almost imperceptible hum throbbing under the silence. His footsteps made no noise as he searched for his quarry, they left no marks on the dreary landscape. His large, predator's eyes scanned the horizon, seeking any sign of movement. He had to find his prey. 

He paused momentarily, raising his head to sniff at the air. Some other creature was approaching. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl and he lowered his body to the ground, slinking to the shadowed alcove carved into the landscape. He tilted his head as he listened to the rhythmic thudding of feet moving towards him. He crouched, feeling his hackles rise and tension build in his muscles as he prepared for potential combat. The other predator came into view. It didn't seem to notice him as it strolled nonchalantly along. He sneered to himself. It obviously didn't know the danger it was in. The creature was like him, but a little different- heavier built, larger and with darker fur. It had more limbs too.

He let it pass him, remaining completely still. It wasn't the prize he was after and it certainly wasn't a threat. He could hear it crooning a mating song to itself and its scent denoted that it was seeking its partner, the alpha female. It wouldn't be seeking his victim. The hunter waited until he was sure it was gone before departing from the shadows without so much as a dropped hair to show his presence.

He was close now; so close he could feel the proximity of his prey. He licked his lips and quickened his pace, feeling his hunger gnawing at him. He rounded the corner and halted. His quarry was there, just a few yards in front of him. It had its back to him and it was completely oblivious to his presence. He felt a growl throb through his throat, too low for the prey to hear, and stalked closer. He could feel his heartbeat begin to race as he neared the climax of the hunt and prepared to bring the animal down.

He couldn't be more than a foot away now. He took a deep breath, feeling the excitement fill his body with strained energy until he was positively thrumming with nervous electricity. He waited for a moment longer, savouring the anticipation. Then he pounced.

* * *

Arthur yelped in alarm as something leapt on him from behind and bore him to the floor. The thing had his arms clasped firmly above his head and it was comfortably straddled across his body before he even had time to consider fighting it off. He struggled wildly, helpless in the strong grip. He felt the warm weight shift as the lithe creature bent down. Its chest pressed to his back, quelling his movements. Moist breath wafted against his neck and he gulped as he heard a deep growling noise coming from the beast. 

It paused, seeming to consider its next move, and then the human let out a squeak as he felt teeth graze the point where his shoulder and neck met. The side of his face pushed into the floor as he attempted to evade the inevitable bite. The hands holding him began to squeeze and relax about his wrists soothingly as the creature pressed its nose into his hair, sniffing deeply. The menacing growl took on a less-threatening tone and softened to a crooning noise. It shifted again and teeth bit gently into the tender flesh at the back of his neck. Arthur gasped as a hot tongue brushed over the abused skin, taking away the sting of the bite.

In a sudden flurry of movement, the thing raised itself, turned him roughly over and re-settled itself across his stomach. He looked up into the face of the thing that had attacked him and was probably now going to molest him. It grinned at his expression and dove again for his neck.

"Ford," Arthur moaned, as his lover re-acquainted himself with his taste. "Why do you always do this at lunchtime?"

"Because," Ford snarled, annoyed by the plaintive question, pulling away to glare into his eyes, "they always show Cravid Stattinburger's 'Predator and Prey' on the Sub-Etha wavelength at lunchtime!"

"I thought you said lunchtime was an illusion?" Arthur replied, breathlessly. He wasn't complaining- Ford could pin him to the _Heart of Gold_ floors whenever he wanted- but this sort of thing did get a bit inconvenient and embarrassing. Especially because he liked to do it in Galacti-markets.

"It is. Now shut up, I'm a dangerous hunting beast." With that, the Betelgeusian went back to his predatory duties.

Arthur shut up. He didn't seem to have much of an option. It was hard to talk when a dangerous hunting beast had its lips locked with yours and its hands pinning you to the floor. He wondered, briefly, if all Betelgeusians were like this. Then he wondered how anyone got anything done when they were being indecently assaulted every half-hour. Then his capacity for rational thought completely disappeared as a certain predatory creature decided that the only thing more annoying than prey asking inane questions was prey that was fully-clothed and still conscious of the outside world.

* * *

Just in case it was confusing, they are in the _Heart of Gold_. I just didn't want to spoil the whole 'hunter on the plains' thing by saying that at the beginning. 


	7. As innocent as jam on toast

Disclaimer: Not mine, yadda yadda.

I have written this because I am a filthy slashwhore with a pervy jam obsession. Hooray. If I haven't made you desperate for a slice of toast by the end of this fic, I will have completely failed in my duties.

My heartfelt thanks go to: Gilded Muse (what indeed?), Les Lapins Mauvais (sorry it was confusing!), Rowana S (you never know, more might come of the Galacti-markets), Kayu Silver (cheers!), AnonGirl88 (tips hat), HurriCanine (thanks for the hug and cookies!), amberblood (glad I made you laugh), Captain Oz (I'm still open to suggestions) and spirals (I refuse to type 'the wonderful'. But I love you anyway.)

This may be the last update for a while, unless people want me to write specific ideas. This really comes as a result of a disturbing converation with banana flavoured dragon, so blame it all on her!

* * *

In the console room of the _Heart of Gold_, Ford was having a deep, meaningful heart-to-heart with his semi-cousin. That is to say, Zaphod was nattering at him about something and he was determinedly thinking about something else. He nodded occasionally when prompted and made little "Mm," noises now and again, but they both knew he wasn't really listening. That was okay. Zaphod wasn't really listening either. 

Ford's head turned as the doors sighed orgasmically open, thanking the kind soul who'd walked through them. His eyes zeroed in on the pyjama-clad form of Arthur, who seemed to have acquired a large plate of toast and jam from the kitchen. His lover looked at him, as if about to initiate a conversation, then Zaphod waved a hand at him dismissively. "Not now, Earthman. We're trying to have a deep and meaningful talk here, if you don't mind?"

Ford rolled his eyes helplessly at Arthur, who shrugged and sat down on the other side of the room, amusing himself by logging in to the _Guide _network via the ship's computer and reading up about some obscure part of the Universe. Ford smiled indulgently as the human began to pick at his toast- Arthur's obsession with jam was quite endearing really.

Zaphod harrumphed in annoyance and waved a couple of hands in front of Ford's eyes, bringing the other Betelgeusian's attention back to him. "Hey, man, what is it with you and the monkey anyway?" he grouched, clearly forgetting how incredibly important their previous conversation was.

His semi-cousin looked a bit put out. "What do you mean?" he replied, sharply.

"Why, exactly, did you bring him along? I mean, there must have been other apes on that miserable rock who were far hoopier than that evolutionary dead-end!" Zaphod raised his hands placatingly as Ford started to go an interesting purple colour at his comments. "Hey, don't get me wrong, he's a gre…fant…alright guy, but why him?"

Large blue eyes stared at him questioningly for a moment, then glanced away as Ford considered the question. It was one he'd actually asked himself a few times- he'd always liked Arthur, from the moment they met (a rather embarrassing affair involving him being drunk out of his skull and Arthur rescuing him from a formidable and equally-drunk work colleague). The Englishman was polite and reserved and oh-so-charmingly inept in bizarre situations. But he'd always stuck by Ford, the alien thought, his gaze returning to the happily-toast-engrossed Earthman. He'd never turned Ford away if he needed a place to crash for the night. He'd never laughed when Ford started rambling about spaceships or towels (probably because such rambling usually occurred in the middle of random fields and Arthur was too busy stargazing). Perhaps most importantly, he'd never let him get too down- he was always ready with a snarky comment or casually comforting one-armed embrace if Ford got into a morose or depressed state.

Ford suddenly realised that his two-headed friend was impatiently poking him for an answer. "I suppose," he said slowly, "it's because he was always there. He made the whole business just a little bit more bearable, you know?"

"Is that it?"

"What do you mean? Isn't that enough?"

Zaphod eyed him. "I know you, man. You're sure it wasn't because he was a great lay? Although, looking at him…"

Ford considered looking insulted, then decided it probably wouldn't get him anywhere. He wondered how best to defend his lover's honour, then a stray memory suggested itself in the back of his mind. He smirked. "You know that hip movement we learned from the master class with Eccentrica Gallumbits?"

"Yeah?"

Ford's smile became positively filthy.

"No?" Zaphod was shocked. He turned two critical eyes on Arthur (the other one was too busy looking gobsmacked). "Really? The Monkeyman can do that?"

"Absolutely. He's better at it too."

"Zarquon!" the ex-President breathed. His left head took on a calculating look as it continued to watch Arthur. "Look, I don't suppose…"

"No. Before you say it, you cannot borrow my pet monkey for some red-hot luvvin'."

"Please?"

Ford shook his head vigorously. "No. Never. And he wouldn't do it for you anyway- he doesn't like you."

"Baby, everyone likes Zaphod Beeblebrox in that department."

"Not Arthur. Arthur likes me. Only me. So there." Ford stuck his tongue out at his cousin.

Zaphod cursed inwardly. "How about if you got him to do it to you and I could just watch? Maybe lend a hand from the sidelines?" His eyebrows wriggled suggestively.

Ford looked a little disturbed. "I am not having some sordid threesome with you, Zaph. And I am not letting you anywhere near any of my night-time activities ever again. Not after last time."

"There was no proof that someone else didn't install that camera and then sell the recording to _Playbeast_!"

"Whatever," Ford rolled his eyes. "Just be glad I managed to track down and burn all the copies of 'that recording'. Or Arthur would probably have castrated you." The ginger-haired man glanced at his lover, smiling as he remembered the last time Arthur got jealous. The human, ignorant of his two spectators, had now finished his first slice of toast and was gleefully starting on the second. Ford's mind, due to the nature of the conversation, started to suggest certain mental pictures of other things that could be done with jam…

"Ford? Hey, Ix!"

He snapped out of it, aware that his breathing was getting a little heavy. Zaphod was looking miffed.

"Stop staring at him, guy! Its not like he's doing anything interesting! He's just eating that toast…really…really…slowly," he trailed off, staring openly at the human.

Ford growled. "Stop it, he's mine remember."

"Yeah, yeah, yours, no molesting, all three hands off, got it," the other Betelgeusian muttered distractedly, not turning his attention from Arthur. Obviously their discussion had centred his brain(s) on a particular topic as well.

Ford speculated whether growling a bit more would help, then shrugged. If you can't beat them, he reasoned, and turned his attention back to Arthur. He wondered if the human knew just how fascinating his mastication was. Oblivious to the attention he was receiving, Arthur was just finishing his jam-coated snack.

The Earthman regarded his last piece lovingly then lifted it to his face, his tongue meeting the scrap as he placed it in his mouth. He closed his eyes as he chewed rapturously, sitting back in his seat. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and Ford felt his gaze drawn to the throat movement. The Betelgeusian shifted uncomfortably in his chair as his brain suggested disturbing amounts of dirty images. He was aware of Zaphod clenching his fists tightly as they both sat transfixed.

Arthur, still unmindful his rapt audience, looked sadly at his empty plate. He licked his lips absently and Ford's eyes were once again pulled up to the movement. His brain was now telling him what other movements that tongue was capable of. He glared at it mentally, but it seemed unfazed and continued to add to Ford's dilemma by blatantly broadcasting mental images at him.

Next to him Zaphod slumped in his seat, clearly disappointed that the show was over. Ford thought vaguely about protesting again at his semi-cousin's behaviour, then was distracted as Arthur moved to put the plate on the floor. As he sat up, he examined his hands closely then lifted them up to his face.

Oh, Zarquon, not that! Ford pleaded mentally, trying to repress the groan that built in his throat as Arthur began to lick the jam off his fingers. Zaphod grunted and bit hard into two of his fists with an almost inaudible whimper. Still human seemed not to notice. Ford desperately hoped he wasn't projecting pheromones as his eyes followed the swirling movements of Arthur's tongue. The Earthman was single-mindedly cleaning the sticky-sweet red substance off every digit with slow, lapping flicks of his (extremely talented and adaptable) tongue.

It was the sucking that did Ford in. He gritted his teeth against the moan as the lucky finger was pushed into Arthur's mouth. As the human's cheeks hollowed around it, Ford gave a strangled gasp and leapt up, sprinting out of the room. Outside in the corridor, he pressed his madly blushing face against the cool wall and tried to discipline his wayward body. His heart was thudding crazily in his chest and his breathing was irregular and ragged. He groaned to himself- oh to be that finger…

"Ford?" came Trillian's voice as he struggled to marshal his thoughts. Somehow the woman's concerned tones managed to penetrate the multitude of debauched jam fantasies that were now streaking through his mind.

"Ford, are you alright?"

"No," Ford hissed, thumping his head against the ridged white wall. "Shameless exhibitionist bastard! He's eating toast! And jam! In public!"

"Er…"

"Barefaced little slut," Ford continued. "I mean, how are you supposed to react when someone does something like that, huh? How could he stoop this low? I mean, _jam_!" He looked up suddenly, his face paling and his electric blue eyes widening in horror. "I left Zaphod in there! Belgium!"

He shoved Trillian out of the way and hurtled back into the room, pausing briefly to assess the situation. Arthur was stood up now, his chair overturned, and he was hastily scrambling backwards, an expression of pure fear on his face. Zaphod was advancing on him hungrily, a crazed gleam in his eyes. He was gabbling something about "Ford won't mind," and "We'll have fun, baby," and "I'm better than jam _and _tea."

Arthur glanced over at his lover, his eyes making a terrified plea, and Ford saw red. Appropriate really.

* * *

Trillian sighed as she entered the room, immediately grasping what was going on as she moved to stand next to Arthur. She watched with some amusement as Ford chased Zaphod round the room waving a large blunt instrument violently at his semi-cousin and threatening bloody revenge. 

"Did you know that this would happen?" she asked her fellow human, pointedly.

Arthur turned to her, a perfectly non-plussed expression on his face. She raised an eyebrow and the façade cracked. The confusion gave way to a large Cheshire cat grin, highly satisfied and more than a little devious.

"Well, I hadn't planned on the Zaphod chasing," Arthur said, laughter bubbling through every syllable. "But I did make sure I put a pot of jam in my bedroom before I made myself some toast."

"You like jam far too much," Trillian half-scolded.

The grin became a smirk. "You wouldn't say that if you had a horny Betelgeusian licking it off you."

She thought about it. "No," she grinned back. "I probably wouldn't. Look out."

Arthur half-turned at her last comment, then hit the floor with a thump as he was soundly glomped by his enthusiastic and by now very turned-on lover. "Bed. Jam. Now," Ford snarled and grabbed his hand to yank him up off the floor. "And if you ever eat toast in front of Zaphod again…"


	8. How it began

Brief explanation for this- it is a **prequel**. These events happen **before** the rest of the story- they're like what happened to start Ford's jealousy off. Very very random and OOC, but right now I'm too tired to care. It's been written for those who requested more Zaphod and Eccentrica Gallumbits.

Thanks to all my reviewers, I'll put your names in tomorrow when I don't have parents yelling at me. Okay, the Wonderful People are: HurriCanine, Rowana S, Taryn Wander'r, Kayu Silver, Les Lapins Mauvais, Vampire Kid Kara, amberblood, Eileen, spirals, AnonGirl88, obsessed fan, Yit-ha and Lar-lar.

A note to Yit-ha: Sweetheart, I admire your determination and single mindedness in asking this, but I have no plans to write lemons in the near future. Sorry! But there is some excellent Hitchhiker slash (avec lemons) at the livejournal community Guideslash.

Read on, my friends.

* * *

Clink. Splosh. Drip. Drip. Clink. Scrape. Gulp. Clink. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Ford stared blearily at the bottle in front of him, wondering why there was no splosh. He shook it gently, causing a few more drops of the Janx Spirit to plop forlornly into the empty glass. He shook the bottle again, then began to swear violently, holding the neck of the bottle in a strangle grip. Three hands grabbed him as he expressed his slight annoyance and he glanced up to see Zaphod shaking his head.

"Its no good, man. Just put the Janx Spirit bottle down- you're breaking my heart."

Sniffing with misery, Ford did as he was told. He slumped into a seat next to his semi-cousin and buried his head in his hands. "What are we going to do, Zaph?" he asked, hoarsely. "No booze. At all. On the entire ship."

Zaphod threw a comradely arm around his shoulders. "I know, man. I know."

They sat in shared anguish, staring at the single empty bottle. "How could we be so blind?" Ford suddenly cried, barely slurring. He leapt up and then hurriedly sat back down again as the room began to gyrate around him like a granny on steroids. Zaphod was too busy licking the rim of the bottle to answer him.

"A bar!" Ford yelled, out of the blue. He didn't leap up this time, having learned his lesson, but he did get to his feet very carefully, keeping an eye out for the room's geriatric dancing. "Zaph, we should go to a bar!" he repeated when his semi-cousin made no reply.

Aforementioned semi-cousin blinked a set of eyes at him. The left set were too busy weeping into his left hand. "No can do. No spondooly. We'd've bought more stuff if we had money."

"Oh yeah."

Another moment of shared distress ambled through, pointing out famous landmarks to its wife and three children as it sauntered past them.

Zaphod's minds were racing. So far he'd reached this point in his calculations:

No booze + Ford + Himself is Bad.

Booze + Ford + Himself is Good.

No booze + Money means Booze.

Booze is Good.

Now, how to get money… "It's times like these," he said, staring at Ford with the head that wasn't sobbing. "That I wish I knew the pin number of my bank account."

The other Betelgeusian nodded. "Yeah. Pity Trillian won't tell you it."

"Where is she anyway?" Zaphod said, screwing up his face to squint around the room.

Ford shrugged. "Think she's asleep. Or doing physics. Or something."

"Ah. And the Monkey?"

"Looking for tea. Or complaining. Or hugging his towel to himself and rocking backwards and forwards gibbering." Ford shrugged again. "They're usually the things he does."

Zaphod digested this information and as he did so, a glimmering of an idea sparkled coyly in the back of his mind. He directed a beam of curious thought at it and it flashed brightly. He let out a yelp of delight and jumped up, then hit the floor with a crash as he fell over. Unperturbed, he tried again and grabbed onto the lapels of Ford's insane jacket. "Wait! I've got a fantastic idea!"

Caught up in the excitement, Ford took the lapels of Zaphod's jacket and grinned his lunatic grin. "Great! What is it?"

"Let's pimp out the Earthman!"

"Yeah, lets!" Ford's brain screeched to a halt and did a U-turn. "Waitaminute! Let's _what_!"

"No, hear me out…"

"_Pimp out the Earthman_?" Ford shrieked, sounding remarkably like the human at his highest frequency.

"Oh come one, man, you're always complaining about how he never makes the effort to mingle or get involved with other cultures- this is his chance!"

"Zaphod, by 'mingle' I meant, you know, chat and get to know them. Not get indecently assaulted by them!"

Zaphod waved a hand as if to dismiss that theory. He felt a little annoyed- he'd gone through all this trouble to come up with a really hoopy idea that would lead to alcohol and Ford was being very contrary and objecting. "Look, I think you're being unreasonable about this…"

Ford gaped at him. "Unreasonable? You are suggesting that we make Arthur have sex with people so we can get pissed. Even assuming we could convince him it's a good idea, I couldn't do that to him- he's one of my best friends!"

"Why?"

"What?"

"Oh never mind, the point is…it's a good idea because…Erm…"

Ford raised an eyebrow. The taller being shifted under his gaze. "Give me a minute kid, I'm thinking on my feet here."

"Zaph, you are not doing this. No way. Never."

* * *

"I can't believe you're doing this!" Ford whined as Zaphod punched a few numbers into the console. 

"Aw, come on Ford, you'll feel a lot better for it."

"Shut up."

"No, really."

"Oh Zarquon, I need a drink!" Ford groaned.

Zaphod winked at him. "That's why we're calling Eccentrica Gallumbits."

"How does that make any-"

"_You have reached Eccentrica Gallumbits, the triple breasted whore of Eroticon VI_," a seductive voice purred from the main screen. "_If you would like to book a session, press one, stud. If you would like to speak directly to Eccentrica, thrust your finger onto two. If you are Zaphod Beeblebrox, you'll know what to do now."_

The two-headed man smirked and pressed a few more numbers. The black screen flared into life and green humanoid form of the most successful prostitute in the Universe winked dirtily at Zaphod from the comforts of her boudoir.

"Hi sweetie," she said, her deep, drawling voice sending electric-chair jolts through Ford's body. "What can I do for you?" The famous figure on screen shifted artfully so her barely-decent silky nightwear became a lot less decent.

"Hey, baby," Zaphod said, his voice gaining the 'Rugged Adventurer with More Ships than He'd Ever Need' edge that made all genders who weren't related to Zaphod swoon. "I need a favour."

"For you," she paused before moaning out the next word scandalously, "anything. Just let me finish up here." Eccentrica slid fluidly off the bed and sashayed off screen. Ford and Zaphod heard her say "Sorry boys, I gotta cut this party short," and then there was the sound of ecstatic screams as the screen faded to blackness.

Ford let out his breath slowly. "Well," he croaked, hoarsely. "That was…"

"Shut up, Ford, she's arriving!" Zaphod hissed as a strange whirring noise filled the air. Light beams suddenly coalesced in the centre of the bridge and wrapped in sensuous spirals to form Eccentrica Gallumbits.

The triple breasted whore smiled knowingly and swayed across the room to Zaphod, her hastily changed black dress clinging to her like a bad rumour to an A-list celebrity. She stood on tiptoe very delicately in her calf-length black leather boots and kissed the two-headed man soundly. Ford rolled his eyes. He really wanted to know how Zaphod getting laid was going to get him anywhere near alcohol. And what it had to do with Zaphod's 'fantastic idea'.

Having fully completed their expeditions round each other's throats, Zaphod and Eccentrica disengaged. The slim, shapely and only aesthetically scaly woman raised an elegant eyebrow questioningly. "So sugar, why am I here," she asked, almost absently licking her lips.

"We have a problem," Zaphod replied, as unperturbed as if he was frequently snogged by gorgeous women (which he probably was, lucky bastard, thought Ford). "I'm initiating Emergency Plan Zero Zero Forty Two."

"Ah. Thought it might be something like that." Eccentrica snapped her fingers and the large case that had materialised after her hovered to her side. "So who am I drugging and readying for a pimping? Its not your pretty friend over there is it?"

"Er…"

"No!" cut in Ford, sharply.

Eccentrica sighed. "Pity. Well, take me to him then, Zaph."

Zaphod wrapped his two right arms around her, doing a bit of surreptitious flesh grabbing as he did so. "This way baby." He escorted her out. Like a lost puppy, Ford followed, mentally wondering how many times Zaphod had called Eccentrica Gallumbits in to assist him in the pimping out of one of his friends.

* * *

Ford stood outside the door to Arthur's room, leant against the white surface, his sensitive hearing focused on what was going on inside. There had been a yelp and a thud when the two plotters had gone in, then an ominous quiet. He was concerned- he was pretty sure Zaphod wouldn't do anything too bad or permanent to the human. Pretty sure. After all, Zaphod was an adult Betelgeusian who understood about the right of oth… 

He began to bang on the door- suddenly he didn't feel quite so pleasantly tipsy. "Zaph! What's going on in there?"

"Relax kid, we're not doing anything permanent! We're just drugging him and violating his privacy! Hey, Ford, you'll never guess what- the Monkey's really furry!"

Ford groaned and clapped a hand to his eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening. Why was he doing this again?

"Alright Ford, prepare yourself for a shock!"

The door sighed open. Ford stepped back to allow them out, dreading what he would see next. His jaw dropped as Arthur stepped out of the room. Was this his mild-mannered conservative friend? Arthur was dressed in tight leather trousers and a fitted silky grey shirt, unbuttoned right down his chest, revealing a shock of dark chest hair covering what looked like a very interesting torso. His thick dark hair, normally neatly combed back from a side parting, had been artfully ruffled and spiked to give it a 'Just Got Out Of Bed With' look. He exuded 'Sex' with a capital 'X'.

The Earthman stopped in front of Ford and smiled invitingly. The Betelgeusian continued to gape as a triumphant Zaphod Beeblebrox joined them. "What d'ya think? Much better, huh?"

"…How…?" Ford eventually managed.

Eccentrica Gallumbits bounced out of the room. "It's easy when you know how." She held up a bottle. "I'm like a fairy godmother," she cooed, her hand trailing down Arthur's arm, to which the Earthman winked suggestively. "One gulp and all his inhibitions are gone. He's basically all instinct now- instinct and lust. You two are gonna be rolling in it- I think he might be my best work. But make sure he doesn't bring anything home with him- when he wakes up he won't remember anything. Have fun boys!"

She snapped her fingers again, summoning the case back to her side, and turned to go.

"Hey baby, I owe you one!" Zaphod called after her.

She stopped and looked back at him. "Call round anytime. You know my fees." She blew him a kiss and disappeared down the corridor, heading for the console room.

Zaphod grinned at Ford. "Let's go, man. We've got some serious boozing to do!"

* * *

They entered the grinding, heated atmosphere of the nightclub, Ford's alcohol senses automatically directing him to the bar. He pushed through the sweaty mass of dancers with the single-mindedness of a man dying of thirst in a desert. Appropriate metaphor. He threw himself onto a barstool and turned to wait for Zaphod and Arthur, still not believing the situation. He'd decided that it must be some sort of strange alcohol-shortage-inspired dream and therefore wasn't really happening so he should attempt to have a good time. 

The other Betelgeusian and the Earthman quickly joined him. Zaphod rubbed two of his hands together gleefully, the other one having taken a tight grip on Arthur's shoulder. The human had a slightly wild look to him now and the devilish gleam in his eyes was brighter and sharper. Zaphod pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket with a flourish and folded it neatly, placing it in Arthur's top pocket- this would inform any hopefuls of the human's purpose in the bar. Nothing…penetrative, but fumbling, kissing, playing and other activities were allowed. For a small fee of course.

The Galactic President sat down next to Ford, releasing his grip on Arthur's arm and allowing the human to saunter wantonly into the heaving throng of aliens. Within minutes, several drinks were lined up in front of the two Betelgeusians. They began to drink, Ford turning every now and then to keep an eye on his friend. "Zaph, I'm still not sure about this," he said, gulping his third drink down nevertheless.

"Why not, man? No one's getting hurt are they?"

"Well, no but…"

"And we've got our drinks now haven't we?" Zaphod flashed a roguish grin at the attractive female bartender as she pushed three more glasses at them.

"Yes, but…"

"And you can't say the Monkeyman isn't having a good time!"

Ford groaned into his jynnan tonyxx. "That's just the point- if he was in his right mind, he'd be having a terrible time! How did you talk me into this again?"

"Zarking fardwaaks Ford, we're doing him a favour! Think how much better he'll feel for all the action! Poor guys so wound up it's a miracle he can walk straight!"

"Still…"

Zaphod slapped him on the back. "Oh shut up, you frotting misery, it'll seem better once you're pissed."

After a bit of steady drinking, Ford had to admit that his semi-cousin had a point. It all made a lot more sense with added alcohol. He was just chasing this thought around his brain when Arthur made a re-appearance. His clothes were looking a bit more creased and there was sweat beading on his brow, but he still looked up for it. He sat next to Ford, his back to the bar and his legs nonchalantly spread. He reached for one of the drinks and took a mouthful, absently plying the straw between his lips and tongue. Ford found it necessary at this point to thump his head on the bar a few times and force himself to think about sensible knitting patterns as he poured another glass of whatever into his system.

Zaphod grinned and poked the human. "How's it going, Monkeyman?"

Arthur just smirked at him. He hadn't spoken all evening, Ford realised, blurrily. He was just about to ask Zaphod about it when an aquamarine biped came up and whispered urgently in Arthur's ear. Arthur raised an eyebrow and flicked his gaze to his two companions, putting his glass on the bar. The turquoise beast hurriedly drew a wad of crumpled notes out of some orifice and thrust them at the bartender. Arthur smiled beautifully and stood fluidly, following the creature to the dance floor with an unconsciously easy grace.

The Betelgeusians watched as the human and his newest conquest threaded their way through the undulating, heated throng of horny young aliens and disappeared down the dark passage to the toilets.

Zaphod snorted gleefully. "Looks like the monkey got lucky!" he sniggered. Ford nodded his agreement, wondering why the thought made his stomach roll and his vision turn slightly red. Nearly fifteen minutes passed, during which the two of them doggedly made their way through the massive order of different alcohols that they'd purchased with Arthur's latest tip.

When Arthur finally emerged, the carefully crafted hairstyle was even more mussed, his clothes were rumpled and his pupils were dark and dilated. His lips were bruised and glossy and there was an angry red mark on his neck. There was an oddly sated air about him and, within two minutes of his sitting down again, a huge order of drinks arrived at the bar in front of him. There was no sign of the blue thing. After that, the evening was a bit of a blur for Ford.

Thank Zarquon.

* * *

When Ford awoke, he was only aware of the pain. He got up gingerly, cursing in the many languages he knew, and made his way to his bathroom. After a quick shower, which made him feel no better, he stumbled dazedly through the ship to the kitchen. His bleary eyes met the sight of a sickeningly grey Zaphod Beeblebrox hunched over the table with a glass of yellow stuff in front of him. Ford staggered over to him and stole the glass, taking a big gulp of the viscous liquid. 

As the most effective hangover cure in the Galaxy swept through him like a tidal wave on acid, Ford leaned on his cousin and croaked "What the photon did we do last night?"

Zaphod waved his hands at him. "Shh! No talking! Too busy being in agony!" The Galactic President cradled his heads in his hands and moaned. Ford agreed with him and followed suit.

They both looked up when the door sighed open, both knowing exactly who it would be. Arthur ambled in, thankfully dressed in his normal dressing gown and pyjamas, and sat down opposite them. "What," he began after a suitable pause had elapsed, "in the name of all that is holy happened yesterday?"

"Erm…"

"We got wasted, Monkey. Seriously wasted."

"Oh." Arthur considered this reply, seeming not to notice Ford's sudden mad blush. "So why," the human ventured, tentatively, "did I wake up with this next to my bed?" He held out a plain white card with some messy symbols scrawled across it.

Zaphod wrenched it out of his hand and stuffed in his pocket with the speed of a hungry Bugblatter Beast. "Its nothing, man, just a business card for the joint we were in last night."

Ford, who hadn't had a good look at the card, nodded wearily and placed his head on the table, hoping to sleep off the rest of his hangover. He didn't want to think about Arthur and beds at the moment.

If he'd bothered to read the ancient symbols messily scribbled on the paper, he might not have been so quiet- they read _'Hey baby, it was great. We'll have to do it again sometime. Love and kisses, Zaphod.'_


	9. A Blast from the Past, how cliche!

Big love to my reviewers: HurriCanine (I apologise for my shameful lack of decent smut), LLM (hello my co-author!), KentouKurige (I hide from your kitten eyes!), Rowana S (everybody likes sexy Arthur…especially Ford), Eileen (I appreciate your sudden dyslexia), amberblood (thank you!), Yit-ha (your wish is my command), Tomiko the Muse (that's cool…stupid video game makers!), Spirals (enjoy Orkney!), MystikTears (it was a good ramble) and jellyjamrabbit (yes, yes it does. But it's meant to be a bit ambiguous)

**Written for** MystikTears, who requested it, and Rowana S, who requested something along similar lines, and Rowana S and Kayu Silver, who liked the idea of using Galacti-markets. Thank you, my little ideas factories! You have made this my longest story, chapter-wise. So this is a follow up to the previous chapter, but happening after the events of chptrs 1-7

Disclaimer: Not mine. Ever. At all.

* * *

Shopping was something that Arthur was comfortable with. Okay, so the trolleys were hoverboards that hummed like asthmatic bees and glowed like hungover lava lamps, and most of the shop assistants had more limbs than he was used to, but all in all grocery shopping in a Galacti-market was something he felt he could cope with. He hadn't heard of any of the food and certainly had no idea what the ingredients were, but, like any ignorant husband/male partner/father of three he simply followed his partner around smiling inanely and saying "Oooh," when special offers were pointed out to him. 

Ford was glad that he'd managed to find something mundane for Arthur to do- the poor bloke had latched onto the boring routine chore like a small child to an obscenely fluffy cuddly toy.

_

* * *

If you were to consult the Galaxy's best selling book on the subject of Galacti-markets, a large hand would materialise in front of your face and slap you silly for being such an ignorant moron. However, if it did contain an entry, it might well run like this:_

'_Galacti-markets are like supermarkets to the power of eight million. If you can't find what you're looking for in one of them, you either aren't looking properly or you've accidentally stumbled into the secret headquarters of the infamous Convenience Store Gangsters (see Chapter 34: Popular But Unlikely Urban Myths). In fact, Galacti-markets are so large and contain such a wide variety of products that many impoverished families have taken to having their holidays inside them. This practice is now so popular that travel agents have started advertising 'Market-breaks' as an acceptable rival to package holidays._

_Hitchhikers are advised to do their shopping in Galacti-markets, due to the cheapness of the goods and the lack of threatening security guards. Also, many chains carry an extensive range of different types of towels and are perfectly happy to allow test-drives of the separate models.'_

_But the Guide does not contain an entry on Galacti-markets, so the above three paragraphs are a load of dingo's kidneys._

* * *

Arthur was just in the process of examining what looked like a pet food section (he'd been abandoned when Ford spotted a free samples counter) when something tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see navy blue biped with two arms, three octopus-like feelers (complete with suckers) and seventeen spider-like eyes. It was showing off pink teeth in a disturbingly familiar grin and it's forked snake tongue flickered out from between it's lips every few seconds, which for some unknown reason made Arthur feel very queer.

"Excuse me," it said, it's breathy voice sending another ripple of peculiarity through the human. "Have we met before?"

"Erm…I don't think so," Arthur replied cautiously, struck by an inexplicable urge to tighten his dressing gown. "I'm quite sure I would remember someone so…unique."

The thing frowned briefly, then its face cleared. "Ah, of course, you must forgive me, I've just had a skin lift. Aquamarine is _so_ last giga-click!" it giggled. "Perhaps you would remember me better like this?" It's face contorted momentarily and the tone of it's skin lightened to a pale turquoise-y shade.

Arthur glanced around briefly in search of Ford, who was usually very good about rescuing him from these sorts of situations. "Erm…I'm sorry, but no."

Another tinkling laugh fluted merrily from the creature. "Oh, I get it, you're trying to keep a low profile. I must say your disguise is excellent, I barely recognised you in that get-up. But I'm afraid I must insist that you drop this pretence right now. We both know who you are and what your profession is- I'd like to engage your services again."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the human stammered, inching backwards, his newly developed hitchhiker's instincts screaming 'Flee!' at him.

The creature sighed. "Very well. If we must do this the hard way." In a flash of fluid movement, it knocked the human out and hoisted him into its trolley. As it hurried away with it's burden, it stroked a feeler down Arthur's face. "I couldn't not have you again, my dear. And now you've no employer to restrict me!"

* * *

When Ford ambled back to the trolley, ambiguously stained and carrying a handful of what looked like lively mauve onion bhajis as a peace offering, he was more than a little perturbed to find that his lover had vanished. He quickly surveyed the area and frowned as he saw no trace of his errant partner. Where the photon had he got to?

* * *

Zaphod awoke

It was a long process and left him wondering why the room was bouncing so much. After a few seconds he realised that it was in fact he who was bouncing around whilst his room obeyed the laws of physics. He blearily reached up to extricate himself from the death-grip of the thing that was forcibly shaking him and yelling in his ear. A brief tussle ensued, but eventually Zaphod found himself stood upright next to his bed, staring down in disbelief his semi-cousin, who seemed a little tense.

"Arthur's gone missing!" Ford shouted, for about the twentieth time. He leapt up off the floor where he'd been thrown and grabbed Zaphod's lapels again, drawing the two-headed Betelgeusian in close. "Where is he, Zaphod?"

"What? How should I zarking know?" came the grumpy reply. Zaphod pushed him off and sank down to sit on the bed, yawning and rubbing all three of his eyes. "Where did you have him last?"

"Bedroom, 3:15," Ford replied, promptly. At his semi-cousin's bemused look he flushed and shuffled his feet. "Erm…That wasn't what you meant was it? No, we were just shopping and I went to get something to eat and when I came back he was gone!"

"And you immediately came back here and accused me. I'm hurt, man. You've really wounded me."

Ford raised an eyebrow.

"Well, actually you haven't. But don't worry, Ford, I'll find him for you!" With these heroic words, Zaphod jumped up and struck the pose that had had him voted 'Most Photogenic Frood In The Galaxy'.

"Zaph, no offence or anything, but you have difficulty finding your own arse even with three hands."

Zaphod looked annoyed. "Way to ruin the moment, Mr Anti-Climactic."

"Shut up. How are we going to find Arthur?"

* * *

Marvin was having a very bad day

Actually, it wasn't any worse than the other thousands of days he'd experienced, but since they were all awful this didn't help matters. He stared gloomily at the wall, wondering miserably what would happen if he'd never have existed. Then he wondered why he was bothering to think about it when he knew for a fact that everyone would feel a lot better off without him. Then he considered committing suicide, but it was just too depressing to contemplate.

Then something terrible happened. Someone paid attention to him.

"Hey, Marvin kid!"

'_If I had moveable eyes I'd roll them to heaven in despair,'_ the robot thought. _'But I haven't- no one ever thought I'd want to roll my eyes to heaven in despair. I don't know why, life's full of despair. And where there's no despair there's Zaphod Beeblebrox, so everything is equally as awful no matter how you look at it.'_ Marvin sighed and attempted to ignore the person who technically, through the 'Property Is Theft' law, owned him.

"Marvin. Hey, Marvin, wake up man, I've got a job for you!"

The dull red glow in Marvin's eyes brightened as he looked up at the grinning faces of Zaphod Beeblebrox. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice groaning like the lid of a stone sarcophagus.

"Well you see, Ford's lost his pet ape…"

There was an indignant snort from behind Zaphod.

"And I suppose you want me to find some way of tracking him down?"

The two-headed man's double grins widened. "Yep!"

"How trivially easy. All I have to do is calculate the probability of finding him and program it into the Improbability Drive," Marvin droned, irritated by the simplicity of the task. "After I've done that, maybe you'd like me to staple my head to the floor and break my legs off at the knee."

"Yeah, sure, if it'll make you happy," Zaphod was too busy concentrating on his pose to take any notice of the robot's sullen remark that it was a statistical impossibility for him to ever be happy and he'd be thankful if no one ever mentioned it again.

Ford just slapped his forehead in despairing exasperation and wished he'd been sensible enough to keep Arthur on a leash like all the other pet owners.

* * *

Once they were above the planet where Arthur was (must have been _taken_ to, a part of Ford's brain registered), it was a relatively simple process to scan the surface for his unique heat/chemical patterns and locate him. What was not as easy was the prevention of Ford from haring off after his lover. In fact, the other occupants completely failed to prevent Ford haring off after his lover. But, as Trillian pointed out, it probably wasn't going to be a pretty sight when Ford found whoever had, for whatever unfathomable reason, kidnapped the unassuming human.

Inside the targeted building, Ford raced through the corridors and down flights of stairs, silently thanking whichever ancestor had gifted him with the genetic trait of a photographic memory. It was only a matter of time before…

He stumbled through a door that led to a darkened room. He paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did so he surveyed the area- it was empty aside from a single chair in the centre of the room, and sat in the chair was...

"Arthur, you great pillock!" Ford hissed, hurrying over to the human. "What the hell do you think you're doing being…tied to a chair in a dingy basement."

Arthur looked up at Ford and smiled politely, seemingly unaware of the bonds that strapped his arm and legs to the chair. "Good afternoon," he said. "Do I know you?"

"It's me, Ford!" the Betelgeusian replied, kneeling down in front of his lover. He gazed worriedly into the human's eyes, alarmed to see that the pupils were a little dilated and Arthur's look was vacant. There was an ugly bruise marring the human's left temple as well.

"Ford you say? What an interesting name. I'd shake your hand but," Arthur tugged at the ropes. "I can't seem to move my arms." He glanced around at his surroundings as if noticing them for the first time. "Bit unpleasant in here isn't it?"

Ford's eyes narrowed. Right, so someone had not only kidnapped Arthur they'd also hit him hard enough to bruise and (assumedly) knock him unconscious and, as if that wasn't sufficiently nasty, they'd tied him to a chair in a cold, unlit room and drugged him. The Betelgeusian suddenly wished he had a large hatchet.

"Arthur, look at me," he said, taking the human's face in his hands. "I'm going to get you out of here, okay? Just bear with me."

Arthur nodded compliantly as Ford began to rummage in his satchel for the kitchen knife he kept in there. Pulling it out, the ginger-haired man began to saw at the ropes, inwardly wishing he had a sharper knife whilst also thanking the abductor for not using energy bindings. He was in the process of cutting through the cords around Arthur's ankles when he heard footsteps coming towards them. He sped up, frantically chopping at the stubborn fibres.

The last piece fell away and Ford hurriedly pulled Arthur to his feet, hauling him across the room. A shadow fell across the door and the couple backed away as the navy blue creature stepped into the cellar. It assessed the situation at a glance and focussed all of it's eyes on Ford, who was keeping a tight grip on a still-vacantly cheerful Arthur. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" the thing thundered, drawing itself up to it's full height.

"How dare you!" snarled Ford, his hair standing on end. "You steal my human, drug him and tie him up and then have the audacity to be offended when I break into your home to rescue him!"

"_Your_ human? Oh, you must be his employer. Well, you don't need to worry. I would have made sure you got the correct cut of the fee."

"Fee? _Fee_? What makes you think I'd accept a _fee_ in return for him?"

The thing frowned. "Because you already have. A while back, in that terrible nightclub on Fnorgle. He was wearing the white handkerchief."

A memory flashed its privates at Ford from within the deepest recesses of his mind, the place where he filed all the memories he'd like to forget. The Betelgeusian groaned and covered his eyes with his free hand. "I'd forgotten about that," he muttered. "Look," he went on, addressing the creature. "That was a one night special offer, not an all-you-can-take deal. You can't just turn up, change colour and drug him into having sex with you!" _That's my job,_ he added to himself.

"Well I'm sorry, but that's not acceptable. I've gone through a lot of trouble to get this far with your…whatever. I'm not going to give this up without a fight."

Ford carefully set Arthur into a sitting position on the floor and pulled his large green towel out of his satchel. "If it's a fight you want," he said, feeling an enraged growl thunder in his throat and taking up Towel Kwan Do position number seventeen (Mad, Bad and Sexually Frustrated). "Then a fight you'll get!"

Evidently the thing had never read the entry on Betelgeusians in the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy _(A/N: see chpt 1) It would have been much more armour-plated if it had.

* * *

Back on board the ship, and only suffering from minor blood spatters, Ford was quick to put Arthur to bed, resisting the urge to kiss him soundly and molest him. That could wait until the poor bloke had recovered his memory.

The Betelgeusian walked tiredly to the bridge, slumping into a chair in between his semi-cousin and Trillian. The Earthwoman nudged him and smiled a sympathetic smile. "Is he alright?" she asked, cautiously.

"He will be," Ford sighed. "I can't help feeling a bit guilty though."

"Hey, why not?" Zaphod asked, after ordering Eddie to take off.

"Because the only reason he was kidnapped by…that guy…was that we'd pimped him out a while earlier and he'd come back for more!"

"Oh yeah. I'd forgotten about that."

Trillian raised an eyebrow at Ford who shook his head. "You don't want to know. Trust me. _I_ don't want to know," he sighed. "I need a drink."

The woman snapped her fingers and caught the glass that hovered over to her, passing it to the dejected Betelgeusian. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, Arthur will probably bounce back from this. You know how resilient he can be."

"And despite his character flaws," Zaphod chipped in, "he's a real beast in the sack!"

There was a long silence, allowing the two-headed man to assess the wisdom of his last statement. He'd never told Ford about what had happened that night. It had been for good reason.

Zaphod ran. Seconds later, Ford followed, wielding his kitchen knife and screaming blue murder. Trillian groaned and tried not to think about what Ford would do to Zaphod if he ever caught him. It would not be pretty. But it would serve him right for cheating on her.


	10. My Poor Sriataer

Thank you lovely people: HurriCanine (please don't, I'm not worthy!), Rowana S, Les Lapins Mauvais, MystikTears (you're welcome), Eileen, Kayu Silver, amberblood, elfgirl, taby, Mithril Maiden and Spirals (hey there girlie!)

Disclaimer: I do not own HHGTTG

So, we take a break from the somewhat lateral storyline of the last few chapters to have a **completely random** little scenario that was basically spawned from chapter 7 of IP. Don't worry, we will see Arthur's reaction his recent kidnapping but not quite yet. This idea popped into my head and I decided not to ignore it. So this scene has nothing to do with the previous two chapters and happens at an earlier time than chpt 9.

Have fun!

* * *

Ford trotted through the white corridors, his lunatic grin firmly fixed on his face. His arms were full of clinking bottles, he'd splashed out on a luxury new towel and, perhaps best of all, Arthur was back from his visit to Earth. 

Now, the intelligent and highly attractive people reading this may stop at this point and think 'Hang on, wasn't the Earth, sort of, blown up?' They are absolutely correct. The Earth was indeed destroyed to make way for a hyperspace bypass. However, as all well-informed readers of the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ are aware, the possessive and indulgent attitude of a Betelgeusian towards their '_sriataer_' or '_most-important-love_' means there aren't many things a Betelgeusian won't do for his or her significant other(s). This includes forcing their rich and influential re-elected Galactic President cousin (at gun point) to allow them access to a prototype Improbability Time Machine so their aforementioned sriataer can go back to his recently-destroyed planet to visit his parents.

The whole affair was really, terribly complicated and stretched the laws of physics, narrative causality and credulity to breaking point. Not that Ford Prefect cared. He was a Betelgeusian with a lover and what Arthur wanted, Ford would tear apart the Galaxy to get for him. Unless he was in a particularly teasing or difficult mood, which was more often than not.

Nevertheless, Arthur had just returned from his half-day visit (all that had been allowed by the Dedicated Space/Time Continuum Observers) and Ford was eager to find his human lover, not just to break in the large collection of different alcohols he'd bought in Arthur's absence. He breezed into their shared sleeping quarters and trilled, "Honey, I'm home!"

Without waiting for a reply he dumped his stuff on the bed, smiling as he caught sight of several cartons of UHT milk, a rather disreputable teapot and a large box of M&S Finest teabags. A small Polaroid camera was resting on the bedside cabinet with a neat pile of pictures next to it. Ford perused them briefly, not surprised when the familiar tourist sights of London met his eyes. Evidently Arthur had decided to get some souvenirs to remember his home by.

After rifling through the pile of pictures and reading the instructions on the box of tea, Ford glanced up at the empty room, wondering where his Earthman had got to. "Arthur?" he called.

"In here!" came the muffled reply from the bathroom.

Ford wandered over to the door that led to the surprisingly large en suite facility. "Can I come in?" he asked, showing unusual politeness.

"No, I'm trying to freshen up."

"And?"

"And I don't want to be molested at the moment, thank you very much. Unlike you I do not have a permanently keen libido!" Arthur said, a little testily.

The Betelgeusian's grin widened and he leaned his head against the door, listening to the splashy noises of Arthur taking a bath. "Just because you're naked and wet doesn't mean I'm necessarily going to assault you," he said, trying and failing to sound hurt.

"I have plenty of evidence to the contrary," the human shot back.

"Well maybe I could come in and take a look at this evidence," Ford suggested, reaching for pressure pad that would open the door.

"Don't you dare!" Arthur shrieked. "Anyway, I've locked the door."

Ford laughed and rapped his knuckles against the white surface. "Since when has that stopped me?"

There was a moment of silence. Then the clear sound of a very heavy and water-logged sponge hitting the door, having been flung at immense velocity from the bath. "Alright, alright!" Ford chuckled. He grabbed a chair and parked himself on it, facing the door. "How did your visit go?"

There was another silence. "It went…fine," Arthur said eventually.

Ford frowned. "Just fine?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to give me any details or do I have to steal your diary to find out?"

The human snorted. "I don't have a diary. And even if I did, I wouldn't let you anywhere near it. I know what you're like."

"You're changing the subject. Why was your long-awaited visit to your much-missed and constantly bemoaned planet just 'fine'?" Ford pressed.

There was a distinct sigh and the sound of someone heaving themselves out of a deep and obviously still hot bath. "I can't get five bloody minutes can I?" Arthur complained, a faintly amused note present in his voice. Ford pressed close to the door again, his sensitive hearing picking up the sounds of Arthur drying off and getting dressed. There was a hesitation in the human's movements, a carefulness that wasn't usually present. Ford wondered what was causing it and why Arthur was being so cagey.

"Well, I went to a few of my favourite monuments and things, took a few pictures," Arthur continued, unaware of Ford's fully concentrated attention on his every move. "Losing Nelson's Column was difficult enough the first time around, this time I wanted to get a proper memory of it. Then I went to see Mum and Dad at their semi-detached."

Ford had never met Arthur's parents and didn't really know much about them apart from the fact they lived in one of the more attractive suburbs of London. "How were they?" he prompted after a few seconds of quiet.

"Oh great, yes," the human answered. "I think Mum was a little shocked to see me- she'd just had a phone call from me saying I was going to be away in France for the week on holiday."

"Ah."

"Indeed, ah. I had to tell her that I'd delayed my journey to pop in and say a proper goodbye. I think she bought it."

"She'd better have done," Ford smirked. "Or you would have had the police after you as soon as you left."

"Well, yes," Arthur's voice was nearer now and he'd stopped moving around. Ford assumed he was sitting on the other side of the door in a similar position to his own, in the vague hope it would prevent any unwanted molestation.

"And?"

"And what?"

"There's still something you're not telling me. What happened at your parents'?" Ford urged, feeling confused by the reluctance of his partner to talk to him. Arthur's voice, now that he was nearer, sounded strangely tired, as if he'd been up for days. There was a roughness that hung about the edge of his words, a roughness that Ford wouldn't have heard had he not been listening for it.

Arthur cleared his throat. "We just talked for a bit. I told her about you, well, a bit about you. You know, basic physical description, good sense of humour, adventurous, journalist, all that. I left out the inter-galactic hitchhiker bit."

"What did she say?"

"Her exact words were 'She sounds like a nice girl, when do I get to meet her?'"

Ford sat stunned for a moment then burst out laughing, feeling a little of his worried tension ease off.

"Yes, yes, it's very funny," Arthur snapped.

Ford continued to snigger. "What did you do?"

"Had to tell her, didn't I? I thought it was best that she knew which way her son swung," the Englishman's voice had taken on a slightly self-mocking tone. Ford's laughter died away and he wondered if he was getting to the root of the caginess.

"Arthur-"

"I mean, what mother wouldn't want to know she had a screaming poofter for a son?" Arthur continued, bitterly.

Ford's hand went automatically to the pressure pad, his instinctive reflex to get to his lover momentarily overriding the rational side of his brain. He forced his limbs to stillness- if Arthur was feeling vulnerable then displays of Betelgeusian protective fury would not help. He tried to keep his tone level. "How did she react?" he said, hating himself for the forced neutrality of his tone. This wasn't the result he'd expected. He'd wanted Arthur to be happy, and instead there was this sudden self-disgust that he'd never seen before.

"I'll never know," the human's voice became toneless, distant, as if he was thinking about something else entirely. "I was just explaining to her when Dad came home."

The finality of those words hit Ford like a kick in the gut. A sick icy tendril of fear snaked its malicious way through him. He knew the attitudes of people on Earth. He knew what the older generation thought of the 'unnatural perverts' who practised homosexuality. He also knew how violently some of them reacted.

"What did he do?"

Silence.

"Arthur, open this door," Ford stated firmly, trying to quell the anger that was starting to boil inside him. If some prejudiced old bastard had done anything to his partner, there would be hell to pay, whether he was Arthur's father or not.

Directly confronted, his lover stammered uncertainly. "I…I don't…"

"Open the door Arthur, or I'll break it down."

There was a shuffling noise and the faint beeping sound of Arthur decoding the lock. The door sighed open. Ford blinked as a cloud of steamy moisture escaped from the room and billowed out into the rest of the quarters. His sharp gaze fixed on the tall form of his lover and he gasped in shock. A large ugly blue-black bruise marred his upper left cheek and eye socket and the flesh had started to swell a little. There was no sign of any other injury, thank Zarquon, but the thought that a father could strike his child with such force…

Ford stepped forwards and tenderly took his lover's face in his hands, tilting his head to he could get a proper look at the injury. "Arthur," he breathed, feeling his anger dissolve into pure sympathy. "What's he done to you?"

Arthur sniffed helplessly at the gentleness of his touch and the agony in Ford's voice. "He threatened to disown me," he said, quietly, tremulously. "He called me a sneaking, conniving, lying little bastard and threw me out of the house."

Ford didn't say anything, just kept his soft touch on Arthur's face and his firm gaze on Arthur's eyes. The human moved to curl his long fingers tightly around the hand that cradled his cheek. "I didn't want to leave, to have my last memory of them full of anger…But would it really have been better if I'd lied?"

Watery grey eyes stared pleadingly into vivid blue ones, asking an unspoken question. Ford sighed. "They had a right to know," he said, gently, displaying morals that up till now he'd been unaware of. "Even if they didn't approve, they had a right to know."

Arthur nodded and Ford impulsively hugged him. "I'm sorry it didn't turn out the way you wanted," he said. "Now lets get the medkit so we can sort that bruise. And then I'm going to molest you. And then I'm going to kill your father."

"Ford!"


End file.
